Misunderstood Villain: Heroines Mourn My Death

"The state of the world."

Cyrus said that like it was obvious.

"Isn't that what everyone's doing these days? Talking about states of things? States! Like it's some trendy new toy—breaking news! It's all 'The Collapse this,' and 'Factions that,' and 'Oh no, bits of The Frozen Wall fell again!' Boohoo! Whole villages locked in permanent frostbite—did you know that? I think I read it in a brief. Hah! And let's not forget the proxy wars! Who's funding who now, hmmm? Who's whispering to who, promising weapons and gold? Ooooh, it's such a tangled web, and I'm the only one who sees the little threads. Or maybe you want to talk about that little… tick-tick-tick that only I, a Sultan, can see? No?"

"..."

"I guess not. Oh! Speaking of—that's why you're here, isn't it? Sniffing around about Nasir Al-Sultan. Now they were entertaining, weren't they? Loud. Messy. A bit too dramatic, but hey, I liked them. I really did. But, ah, what a shame... stepped on the wrong boots. Big boots, shiny ones."

"..."

"And, mmm, yes, we did put a bit of money into them. Sprinkled some gold on their revolution, let the tree grow. Turned out to be a weed. Whoopsie-daisy! What a waste, huh? We're sad, too. Very sad. Look—see? Frowny face."

"..."

"But you… you haven't even offered your condolences, have you? How rude! You should do that. Now. While the wound is fresh. While the meat's still pink. Say it. Say you're sorry for the corpses you probably stepped over to get here. Go on. I'll wait."

"..."

"Oh, and condolences to you, too! I mean, you were close, right? That's what I heard. Rumors. Gossip. Very juicy. You were courting one of their women, ooooooooh, naughty boy! Naughty boy! What would Huda think? Tsk-tsk-tsk! Cheating already? Or—or wait, no, she's your sister, isn't she? But... not by blood? That doesn't count, right? Still a little taboo, but who doesn't love a scandal! Incest is very on-brand for tragic heroes these days. Adds layers."

"..."

"Although, and don't get mad now—little whispers are slithering through the palace walls; they're saying that you killed them. Yep. That it was you who sliced them up and left them to rot. Isn't that scary? I didn't think you had it in you. But maybe you do. Maybe you're the monster they whisper about. Then again—who am I to judge, hm? You don't look like a killer, though. You look... sad. Sad, angry, and confused. Like a kicked FELINE with a knife in its mouth."

"..."

"But don't worry, I'm sure the official story is the correct one. You know, the version with the assassins. Yes, yes, those assassins. I heard about them ahead of time, actually! Strange, isn't it? Me, with all my resources, and yet I couldn't do anything to stop it. Not a thing. Helpless little me. If I could've, you know I would've helped, right? I mean, we're friends! You trust me, don't you?"

"..."

"What?! You don't? That hurts. That really hurts. Cut me to the core. I might cry! No—no, I won't. Because I'm brave. Like you. Like Nasir. Like the Kingdom of Light. Oh, right, right, that's what this is really about, isn't it? Not just revenge and reunion, no-no-no. You want answers. You want me to spill my guts, and not only just literally. You want to know if I was complicit. That's the word, right? Complicit. In Al-Ayan's little... incident."

"..."

"Well, you're out of luck. Because I can't just sell out my subjects. Even the annoying ones. Even the ones who glare at me in court. Even the ones who get a little too big for their boots and think they're kings. Nope. Loyalty first. Can't just hand over names like that. You'll have to ask someone else. Maybe someone... less royal."

"..."

"Awwww… don't pout! Are you pouting? Look at that face. So hurt. So betrayed. Did that make you sad? Did I make you sad? I didn't mean to. Or maybe I did. It's so hard to tell these days. Everyone's sad about something. Grief is fashionable now. But you? You wear it well. Too well. You think you can teach me?"

"..."

Malik, for the tenth time in a row, did not answer.

No matter the words thrown at him, he appeared completely unfazed.

He was far from overwhelmed, and he did not care for any of Cyrus's jabs.

There was truth in what he said, and it was something Malik already expected.

He would not be getting any useful information about Al-Ayan from him.

The man before him would not help him with anything.

So instead, Malik stopped scanning the room and looked back at Cyrus.

Their eyes locked with one another.

"You're usually not here."

Cyrus shrugged his shoulders, his hyperstate crashing.

"Nope. I'm busy elsewhere most of the time. I only come here with guests."

"...Am I your guest?"

Malik's question held obvious subtext, one that Cyrus didn't wish to answer.

"Tell me, why are you really here, Malik?"

Looking to the right, Malik nodded his head.

It seemed to be in the direction where they first met.

"Huda."

"Ohhhh, right~. Of course. There's no bigger reason. It's just sisterly love. Protect the tiny bean and all that."

Cyrus rolled his eyes.

"You are such a cliché."

"...Better than being you."

That made Cyrus laugh again. Loud. Almost choking.

But it was all fake, and none of it reached Malik's ears.

"I like you! You're spicy~. Still dead inside, but spicy!"

Malik leaned forward.

"Stop playing around and tell me at least one truth... Why are you here? Why aren't you in the capital? Isn't that where you Sultans live? What is it you're planning?"

Cyrus raised his brows.

"Ohhhhh, that's a lot of words. You—"

"Tell me."

Malik got his revenge by cutting him off.

Admitting defeat, Cyrus thought for a long moment.

Eventually, his eyes flicked toward the frost-covered window, and he spoke:

"I'm here... to ensure."

His eyes glowed a bright pink.

"To ensure."